


The Sacrifice

by lover_of_blue_roses



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Top!Roger, Virgin Sacrifice, bottom!John, slight dubcon from the scenario but everyone is having a great time, virgin!John
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-12
Updated: 2020-01-12
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:37:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22219801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lover_of_blue_roses/pseuds/lover_of_blue_roses
Summary: Once a year, John Deacon's town has a ritual. One maiden is sent into the forest for the pleasure of their god, to ensure another year of good harvest, good hunting, and protection. 'Maiden' however only means virgin and this year it turns out only Deaky is eligible.
Relationships: John Deacon/Roger Taylor
Comments: 25
Kudos: 84





	The Sacrifice

Deaky has gone from anger to shock. Now he's just staring at the cold stone ground of the holy caves wondering how it has all come to this while a holy priest comforts him. This priest, named Miami which is possibly less weird of a name than the one name Mercury, is actually doing very little to be comforting and that is what John finds comforting.

He doesn't want pretty little lies and he also realizes that his situation could be worse. For the next two weeks he is to live in this dimly lit, vast caves with the priests. Which is such a complete and utter waste of time and resources. When his father had passed, they've had to depend on the charity of others but since Deaky has been of a useful age, he's dedicated himself to being the breadwinner. He's trained hard to become a talented, capable hunter, that manages to provide for his mother and sister. Only now he won't be there for them for a whole two weeks and a night, and it is his understanding, that he'll need some time to recover after that night too. 

Miami explains the kind of life he will know here. They will be enforcing a restrictive diet, which most tragically restricts alcohol Gods know he could use it right now, extensive exercise most of the day and an absurd level of hygiene. During all of this he does talk and socialize with them, having never really done so not only because he was shy but because they were the priests. They turn out to be friendly and personable enough for Deaky, even Mercury is tolerable. Although they thankfully never discuss anything about the upcoming ritual, in which he is the sacrifice.

Which is good because obviously he's nervous about it even if he has mostly moved passed his anger on the matter. If the priest feel this much preparation is necessary, he does actually trust their judgement. But still he's never- He can't even imagine- The nerves cause the next two weeks to pass in a grueling slow haze as though what is awaiting is a terrible death. 

He remembers when he'd first been told. He'd been approached by one of the priest, at that time he had no idea what any of their names possibly were, in their terribly gaudy uniforms and informed as to his fate. 

Despite being sober, John could feel rage boil easily at the surface and considered very hard decking the willowy looking holy man. 

"You're kidding me, right?" John had asked dryly. This is ludicrous. Mercury's eye had slid to side guilty but he said nothing. His hands had clenched into tight fists and he had hissed out "I have a penis," with a sharp gesture to his crotch and the very manly part that exists there. "How the ever loving fuck do I qualify as a goddamn maiden?!" 

Mercury had just lifted a hand to his face and covered his mouth with those infernal trailing sleeves of the priest uniform and fake coughed before peering back at John. "Actually, the ritual calls for a virgin of at least eighteen years of age. While it usually happens to be a woman, it is only because, er um well, men tend to lose their virginity earlier."

A hot flush had stolen over the young man's face as he did his best to resist ripping those goddamned sleeves off the older man's gaudy uniform. He knew his shyness had led to him being behind the curve but it didn't have to be pointed out like that. "As you are the only person in the village who currently fits that description, and no one else is coming of age before that time, you'll have to be the sacrifice."

John had crossed his arms, looking down at the dirt beneath his bare feet. He had taken in a deep breath but bite out through clenched teeth, "And there's really no alternative?"

Mercury had only given a small shrug. "In cases where there are no acceptable sacrifices, a priest can be a substitute, but unfortunately you *do* fit the requirements. Attempts to fool the Gods are not actually recommended."

And of course the priest had had a point, which is why Deaky is doing as he is told as much as he'd like to runaway or lash out with violence. Deceiving a God would be a bad idea but that doesn't mean John has to like it. 

The God the villagers follow, John included, is fairer than most. The village's crops always grow and the hunting in the surrounding woods is always decent, there is also protection against other Gods and disasters in exchange there is a ritual. Once a year, every year, in the middle of spring there's the Blood Maiden ritual. Which John had always assumed was just for 'maidens' as in girls, but apparently not. Apparently it referred to a maiden just as to be 'of age' and 'had not orgasmed by another.'

The ritual was that such a maiden was to be sent to the woods to be sacrificed to please him; presumably John assumed this meant deflowered, as they returned completely unharmed at rising of the sun. No one actually knew what went on but the maidens themselves so he couldn't be sure, it is forbidden for them to talk about the events of that night to anyone. 

"Fine," John had conceded, begrudgingly. "But when this is over I'm going to kill you, just so you know." He had said it so dryly that Mercury could not be sure he was jesting which is just how John liked it. It wasn't the priests fault but he definitely deserved to squirm over this. It didn't even feel like the God's fault for he asked for so little while providing them with so much security in return. It was far better than if they had to make offerings of food or else they scarcely had.

Mercury however was frustratingly completely unfazed by this threat, merely placing his hands behind his back, as though he knew Deaky was just lashing out because there was no one to vent to. "You'll be sequestered inside of the holy caves for two weeks as preparation, it is best should you tell your friend and family now." 

Maybe the death threat wasn't that much of a joke. 

On the actual night of the ritual Mercury is the one to address him, suspiciously seriously. "Are you ready?"

How was Deaky to answer that? He shrugs noncommittally. He'd been scrubbed to within an inch of his life, his wavy hair had been carefully trimmed to hang straight in the back and to not obscure his eyes but funnily enough it had not been straightened. The diet and exercised has stripped any excess fat he might have had, not that there was much to begin with anyways. He had been training to be a hunter and being in shape was just part of the job. 

He turned to look at the priest who still seemed to be awaiting an answer, "I suppose so, it's not like I can back out of this now."

Mercury merely lifts his eyebrows in a 'that's fair' way before leading Deaky out through the cave system and towards the entrance, where the other priests were waiting for him. They quickly and efficiently stripped him out of his clothes. At least the good news was that he had never really talked with these people before and probably never would again. 

One of them approaches with a small bucket and he forces down a shiver when he sees what's inside. Sacrifices for the Blood Maiden ritual are painted up before being set loose in the forest, but no one had told him it was actual blood. He closes his eyes as this strangers paint lines of his body but honestly far more disturbing is the smell of blood that starts to surround him. 

Thankfully it's faint but due to their scrubbing he doesn't smell like anything else so the scent stands out all the more sharply. Once done painting him, they redress him in nothing more than a wrap cloth around his hips. Deaky refuses to look at the sigils nor all that exposed skin. 

"It's time," Mercury says softly taking his arm -careful to avoid the still drying blood- and escorts him out of the caves. It's just after sunset which is evident by the fact the sky is a few shades from complete night and from having watched the other years' rituals. The priest leads him to the edge of the forest, most of the people from the town are present but they hang back. 

They carry no lights and Deaky realizes with sudden clarity that the holy caves are almost the same level of light as out here and Deaky's eyes have adjusted over the last two weeks. Now he can see decently well with only the moonlight. 

Mercury nudges John towards the forest and he takes a deep breath in before moving forward. There's going to be an accompanying speech and some other things for Mercury to perform but Deaky won't be witnessing it for once as he'll be in the forest this time. Thank God he doesn't have to listen to that droning, literally actually he supposes. 

The forest makes him wary, especially in the dark but he soldiers forwards anyways. Soon he loses sight of the edge and quickly enough is only surrounded by the grasping shadows of the trees and the ambient noises of the forest. It is good that he use to hunting without shoes as to be ever more quiet for none were provided with this outfit and yet his soles are hardened enough that it does not hurt despite the rather unpleasant feeling. At least this time he is not hauling a carcass that would way him down.

He wanders aimlessly for a long time, getting deeper and deeper into the woods. Surely hours must have past and interestingly while he has heard the movement of the animals around him, the rustling of the bushes and leaves, he hasn't seen any of them. 

When he does finally wander across one, he doesn't move until he sees it move. When the darkness gathers into a shape at the base of the tree at first Deaky thinks he must be seeing things, two spots of brown eyes glinting intently at him. He stops, staring no more than a few feet away from the creature, when the animal obligingly steps forward. As it shortens the space separating us, it steps in a patch of moonlight. It's a panther, sleek and clearly a danger with its mouth full of sharp teeth. 

Deaky doubts it to be a coincident and his eyes narrow. "You're not native to here," he says softly and Deaky would swear the animal grins at him. 

A moment later, and with no warning, it leaps at Deaky who swallows a shout and dives out of the way. He rolls, ignoring how the sticks and leaves of the forest floor scratch at his bare and exposed skin, and comes back up in a crouch. 

The beast is quick to land and whirl on the hunter left with his weapon, its ears flat upon its head and a growling filling the air. Deaky clenches his teeth, bracing one hand on the ground and waiting for its move. Without any weapons, or even a tool of any kind like rope, he doesn't actually stand a chance. Still he's hardly willing to be so sacrificed without a fight. 

His only option is to take off running as soon as the animal braces to lunge a second time. He doubts he's going to get very far but still he must try for what other options are left to him. He can hear it following behind him, the sound of its paws running on the ground and Deaky only speeds up when it roars behind him. And to think the priest has said 'no danger,' Deaky was going to haunt his ass. 

Was he going to be the first sacrifice to fail their God by being eaten? Suddenly a flash of white teeth from in front of him and then there were grey eyes that left him skidding to turn, all but bouncing off a tree to make a sharp exit. A howl from the wolf as it joins the chase. 

This isn't natural, it can't be. Wolves exist in the forest and they hunt in packs but with a panther? No, absolutely unnatural. It just could not be anything but divine. 

So then the question is why as his breathing starts to grow labored. He dashes in between the trees doing his best to avoid running straight through the undergrowth between them. 

And then after a few minutes somehow miraculously, probably literally miraculously, they have not caught up to him. In fact when he risks glancing over his shoulder to check, there's no sign of pursuit. Hesitantly he slows down, scanning the forest behind to see any trace. Nothing and Deaky can only hear the sound of his own heart thundering in his chest and the harsh panting of his breath. 

He stops now fully, turning to see if he can find from which way he came. He braces a hand on a nearby tree as he tries to catch his breath, hanging his head in sheer exhaustion. He must not be there for more than three breaths when something grips him by the arm and spins him to slam him against the very same tree. 

The young hunter sucks in a sharp breath, startled to see a man staring down at him. He's of a height with John although with a slightly larger built. Despite his rather unassuming appearance his hold is implacable and inescapable, as unforgiving as metal shackles around his wrists. The God has unnaturally blonde hair that twinkles in the low light of the night. He's dressed in anything finer, not to mention flasher than what is in his small town by far, the kind of quality that must only be found in the capitals. 

Half of his face is cloaked in shadow but from the angle they are at, what Deaky can see is enough to make him suck in another breath. His eyes are the most vibrant shade of blue, nearly glowing in the darkness and his mouth is curved in a wicked little smirk. 

God.

His eyes slide up and down Deaky's exposed body, lingering so intently that it's enough to feel like a physical caress before looking back up to meet the sacrifice's eyes. His smirk grows and it makes him look all the more attractive as he presses his body even closer to where he has John pinned. John can't do anything but stare as his heart still pounding in his chest but now for a different reason. 

Slowly his grip loosens from where he has Deaky held and his fingers leave tingling trails as they trace the lines of painted blood on his arms. The young man shivers and shuts his eyes.

The stranger chuckles in a surprising voice for how fair and soft his face looks that vibrates where their chests are touching. "Welcome my Blood Maiden," he almost purrs, sliding one leg inexorably between Deaky's.

A terrible flush instantly rises to Deaky's cheeks as his breathing hitches. He's never -well there's definitely a reason he's here as a virgin sacrifice. He tries to get is tongue to work where it lies uselessly in his mouth to something witty. "That's a terrible name," he finally to form. 

The stranger blinks looking surprised and befuddled before letting out a soft sound of amusement. "Yes, you are after all-"his leg presses up into John's crotch and there was nothing the young hunter could do to restrain a gasp, "Clearly not a maiden. Innocent of the pleasures of the flesh but not female," he smirks as he lowly murmurs this into John's ear, one hand roaming where breasts clearly aren't. "It is a pleasant change." 

The blush is now going to be permanent Deaky fears as he swallows thickly. "Sick of girls?" He asks breathlessly. 

He gives the smallest of shrugs, as his hand continues to trace Deaky's bare and exposed chest. "Not as such, but the variety is a welcome change. If you dislike that title, shall I call you by something else, then? 'Dear', or 'sacrifice'?"

"How about 'John' or 'Deaky'?" He offers, fighting the urge to close his eyes again under the gentle, tingling touch of the stranger's fingertips on his skin. 

He pauses at Deaky's words and again there appears to be that expression of surprise. "Most do not choose to give me their name, I appreciate the gift, Deaky," and he seems genuine as he bows his head with a soft smile. "My true name can be difficult for mortal to hear and contains much power, but you may call me Roger." 

Deaky manages a small nod, glancing down at the attractive God. "Is this how you always look?" Deaky can't help but to notice... well that this form is rather feminine. 

Roger rises a single haughty eyebrow as he answers with a smirk. "I can choose to appear as whatever I like, but this is my preferred form, yes. I generally take the form of a woman, when they send me males, but," his smirk turns vaguely wicked, "I got the impression you would prefer me as this gender." If Deaky's flush could get any more intense, it does. "You are a rare treat, indeed. A male, but one I get to keep my favorite form with."

Roger slides a hand up John's throat, he traces his index finger on the hunter's skinny bottom lip as he can't help but to shudder under the God's touch. Going from having never intimately been touched to this- It's a lot. Especially considering how much he might have always wanted some intimate physical touch. 

"So," Deaky tries, desperate for anything else to latch onto, "Was that you chasing me through the woods?"

He chuckles in that low, dangerous voice of his as his fingers leave Deaky's lips to trace over his cheeks and then slide into his hair. "No that was merely two of my subordinates, servants of mine and king of their respective races. I had them guide you in my direction." 

"Why?" Deaky tries to keep the plot going despite the distracting touches but Roger just smirks and leans forward. He slots his mouth over the young man's instead of answering. John doesn't know if all first kiss are suppose to be like this, so pleasant and warm, or if it's a God thing. Regardless he is unable and unwanting to resist, allowing himself to be helplessly cared away. The God tastes sweet, like honey and sugar and that's before he even slides a tongue into Deaky's mouth. 

It feels as though every nerve sends a bolt of arousal straight to his groin. John whimpers into the God's mouth, arching his bare back against the rough tree bark. Lust pools under his skin and the world feels as though it is tilting. His hand rises to grip a handful of the fine cloak, just for something to hold on to. 

The God's hands let go of the hunter's arms and find their way onto grab his ass instead, canting his hips towards him as to deliberately tilt and slide the virgin's crotch against his leg. Deaky cries out at the direct stimulation that is still muted by his mouth, trapped by the unyielding tree and the press of his hard body. 

Roger withdraws from the kiss, though his hands keeps John's hips and his legs firmly pressing. "I needed you this deep into the forest," he finally answers, a mere murmur against Deaky's lips. Deaky is near trembling as he pries his eyes open to meet the luminescent blue ones. "You see, I intend to make you scream for me, and I don't want anyone to hear but me."

Deaky feels as though his brain knows only blackness for a moment, all he can do is stare at the being that spoke those words. He fears that if he were not being held, he'd tumble to the ground.

Which is why it is unfortunate that Roger leans back, releasing him. But as soon as he see's Deaky wobble, he scooped him up into his arms. John grasps at the clothed arms but can't even summon anger at being carried away in the face of his overwhelming arousal that throbs between his legs. 

Roger strides through the forest without looking down or stumbling even by the merely dim light of the moon. Deaky takes this as an opportunity to bury his flaming face into the clothed chest as he tries to regulate his breathing.

Still, it has to be a God thing. Deaky's never been kissed more than a peck when he was around five but he's seen other people kiss and heard the boys gossip about it. It's never been described as something that completely overwhelming. John's certainty never felt anything resembling that level of pleasure, not even with a hand around his own cock. It has to be a God thing.

"Here," Roger says softly and Deaky lifts his head to see where they'd arrived. There is a recess, a dip made of stone walls roughly seven feet tall rising on three sides. The whole space is covered in soft green moss except for one corner where there is a small pool of water against one wall. 

It looks like a little slice of paradise and the mortal had little doubt it is supernatural. In all the his traveling in the forest he'd never seen such a place nor had heard of anyone else would has either. Shadow cling strangely in the corners but the moonlight illuminates most of it. 

Roger kneels with Deaky still in his arms, laying them down gently on the soft, and most importantly dry, ground.

"What- What is this place?" Deaky asks gently as to not disturb the unnatural peace of the place. He props himself up on his hands, he can still see the trees all around them and past Roger where the land dips down into a gentle slope. They do appear to still actually be in the forest, just perhaps a part exclusive to the God. 

Roger looks out on the clearing with pride as he takes it all in. "Mine," his simple answer comes with a smirk. "Do not worry, no one can find this place unless I give them the knowledge. We are very much alone."

Deaky opens his mouth to naturally ask another question, never having dealt with the supernatural so clearly before, and finally in such a position to get answers but Roger leans over the young mortal and Deaky's open mouth snaps shut. One of the God's hand lands high on his left thigh and stroking upwards, beneath the simple wrap cloth to were there is nothing underneath. 

Deaky's inhales are shakily as he feels the God's hand squeeze where thigh meets torso although the pressure remains gentle. John leans back to rest on his elbows and dips his head as though to hide his eyes behind his hair and distance himself from all of this.

It's just so much, he can feel the blush crawling over his skin because of the obvious tent in the cloth from his erection, and to think the God hasn't even really touched him yet. Roger just makes a low sound of approval in the back of his throat as he moves to be kneeling between Deaky's legs as his free hand follows the same slow slide up his right thigh. The God pauses and his smirk fades.

"There are two rules to this encounter," he speaks in a soft, tender voice. "And you must agree to them before I go any farther." John manages a nod but most of his attention is focused on the hands so close and yet so far from his crotch. 

"Firstly, you are not allowed to tell any other living being the details of this night," Deaky's eyes narrow slightly, he had thought he'd be allowed to tell the priests or other previous sacrifices but apparently not. "Secondly, you will not touch any other being sexually for two years after this date without my permission." 

Two years is a long time but Deaky doesn't have plans and has clearly never been able to do such a thing with another person before, so it's not like he's actually denying himself too much. "Do you agree to these conditions?" 

John nods, "I agree." And it feels like... something, almost like the press of a firm invisible hand around his throat that only lasts a moment before vanishing. 

Roger's lips curl back into their heated smirk and both of his hands give a gentle flex against where they rest on Deaky's bare skin. "Wonderful to hear." One hand pulls away to unclasp his cloak, he flexes his shoulders but rather than it falling carelessly around them, it tumbles tidily into a pile on one side.

Deaky swallows as the second hand is removed from his body to strip the God of his top, giving him an eyeful of that flawless pale skin so very different than Deaky's. The time spent hunting has left Deaky tanned to say nothing of the natural scars and moles that come from a mortal life. 

This is to say nothing of the tough life that comes from a father gone in early childhood leaving only charity and him to provide for his mother and sister, which has left its mark in his skinny body that has known the bite of hunger. On the other hand where Deaky has edges, Roger is smooth, soft and plum. 

Deaky swallows back a moan at the desirable site and Roger makes a sharp clicking noise that is instantly understood for the rebuke it is. The hunter flinches back in surprise. "No," the God reprimands, and Deaky is powerless but to look into those blue eyes in confusion. 

A hand falls on his torso, teasing his fingers down along his ribs and John's breath hitches. "Don't hide your sounds from me, Deaky," He speaks softly, as though his words might be lost on the wind. Deaky's eyes flicker helplessly at where his fingers have dropped lower and lower still, his belly button and his trail of hair and now just above the loin cloth. "Not ever."

"Alright," Deaky mumbles, giving a small nod his attention clearly else where. It's little wonder that Roger can't stop smirking. 

The God's hand slide to the wrap, deftly untying the simple knot, leaving Deaky shivering as it is pulled away from his now naked form. John knows a moment of trepidation still as the God looks at him before make a deep sound of appreciation, eyes eventually rising to meet the hunter's. "Every inch of you is as pleasant as the next," he says in a low purr that makes Deaky quake from arousal, all these touches and talk but still no direct contact. "I have not desired a sacrifice as I desire you for quiet some time."

The next moan is simply punched out of him, how can that even possibly be true and yet why lie? The God leans over Deaky, pushing him down onto the soft ground with a single hand to the center of his chest before kissing him senseless. Deaky feels the same rush as the first time, his fingers claw desperately into the moss and when he pulls away Deaky has just enough left of his mind to gasp out, "What is that?"

Roger chuckles, the sound and the warm puffs against Deaky are tantalizing to his nerves. He pulls away only enough to press his lips against the mortal's neck. "It is a minor transfer of my powers. I have been told that to mortals the feeling is close to resembling that of an orgasm itself. It is no drain on me."

"A- A transfer?" Deaky asks breathlessly, letting out a whine of pleasure as teeth were scraped against the delicate skin there. 

"Nothing permanent or too serious," Roger murmurs and his voice feels like velvet. His teeth close around the lobe of his ear and tug gently. "Saliva, Deaky," he whispers directly into his ear and the hunter shudders all over, whimpering. "You are holding a part of me. Do you like it?"

"I... It's-" Deaky can't even manage full sentences, the idea and the sensation has fried his thoughts. 

Roger lets out a sound like amusement. The hand not pressing John to the ground dips between the hunter's legs to give his cock a slow stroke, startling out a breathless cry of pleasure before it is retracted. Deaky harshly sucks in a breath as he trembles.

"Mmm, just wait, when I release inside of you, that will be ecstasy." 

John is shocked still, not even breathing, as his mind tries to fully grasp that concept. What startles him out of it, is the press of two fingers against his asshole.

They are already slicked up and slippery with something, one slides in without any trouble. It's an odd feeling, although not uncomfortable or painful. It slips in and out a few times before it is joined by a second one. They stretch the muscle in gentle movements as Roger's lips and teeth move along Deaky's neck, who shivers and arches into the feelings.

A third one is added and it starts to feel actively good rather than just odd. There's a dull ache of pleasure as hot lust pools in his groin at the stimulation given to those untouched sensitive nerves. Deaky can't help but to tilt his hips up to try and get more, get them deeper. Roger makes a sound of pleasure and presses a wet chuckle against Deaky's throat.

"The things I could do to you, Deaky," Roger says lowly as his fingers continue to rock into him. "The things I could show you, the things I could teach you, the ways that I could have you. We have all night after all." 

The pleasure is becoming a haze in which John is losing himself in and yet he still notices when a fourth finger is added and he lets out a small whimper at the added stretch. Roger pauses his thrusting to stretch and lightly scrape against Deaky's inner walls, which elicits more choked sounds of pleasure. 

Deaky thinks to himself that surely this much stretching should hurt or ache. Is it just the lubrication and the skilled hand or is it actually the fact that he is a God? "I could slip my entire hand into you," Roger continues to murmur, "And watch you writhe around on my fist. Would you like that?"

Oh. God. John digs his fingers into the ground and squeezes his eyes shut as he arches off the moss. "Anything," he begs, "Please, please, anything, anything at all." Deaky can't see past the God but wouldn't be surprised if his dick had turned purple, he feels that worked up. The sheer need is like lightning in his veins. He can't believe it's come to this, had anyone told him he'd be begging to be fucked this morning, he'd probably have punched them in the face. 

Roger stills above the mortal who is surprised to feel a faint tremble run through the God. "Later," he says with a dry, husky voice. "Later, my dear Deaky." The fingers are slipped out and Deaky lets out a little gasp as his hole spasms around empty air. "First I'm going to fuck you. You might not remember your own name after I'm through with you but you'll know you've been fucked." And then something thicker and warmer presses back into him. 

The breath leaves him and he shudders at the seemingly infinite slide of flesh into him, until finally the press of warm skin is against the hunter's inner thighs. The God doesn't move, giving him a moment to cool down. It doesn't hurt, but it is different enough of a sensation that it takes Deaky a few moments to acclimatize. If anything he feels full in all the right ways, especially after fingering left him so empty. 

Roger shifts and a cry is punched out of the no longer virgin's throat. The movement pulls him out few inches and Deaky arches off the ground, his hands leaving the ground to scratch at the God's back. Roger makes a soft sound of approval, pushing back into him. John trembles faintly as he does his best to hold on. 

Roger's hands make their way to hold him, one on his hip and another beneath him, around his back. "Grip me as hard as you like Deaky," he speaks softly in the mortal's ear, "you can't hurt me."

That better be true because Deaky takes him at his word and clings with his not inconsiderable strength as he begins to thrust. At first it's slow, gentle, rocking, thrusts but it doesn't stay that way for too long. The pace picks up, the roll becoming more of a slam. John buries his head into the blond tresses, as each thrust prompts a cry or a gasp from him. The pleasure builds unrelentingly for the cock pressed between their two stomachs. He chokes out a moan as he resists the urge to bite into the God's shoulder. 

"Roger," Deaky thinks to warn desperately. The God makes a low guttural noise into the hunter's ear. The sound is so animalistic and wanton that it nearly pushes the virgin over the edge instantaneously into their first ever orgasm at another's hands. 

"Come for me, Deaky," Roger says, demands and Deaky can do nothing but let out a helpless sob as he obeys. John thrashes about, arching and digging his nails into the God's back as the pleasure peaks and he comes over both of their stomachs. He spends the next several moments in a haze of bliss while Roger continues to fuck into him. Just as John is starting to come back to himself he feels a hard final push into him and hears a soft sound of pleasure as Roger comes inside of him.

As the warmth of his release spreads a tidal wave of pleasure crashed down hard into the virgin. A sharp cry is torn from his throat as he thrashes about again. The pleasure is so intense that it borders on pain and Deaky tilts his head back as he feels tears gather in his eyes. It's too soon, way too soon for him to grow hard or ejaculate again. Yet it was so close to his last orgasm that it feels as though it is only the second peak and his cock gives a valiant spurt at the extreme sensation. 

It doesn't last long and so after a few moments Deaky sinks back down to the ground, shuddering uncontrollably. Roger presses soft, gentle kisses to the mortal's throat, cradling him with one arm around his back. The God gently slides out and John jerks weakly at the sensation as his grip finally loosens. 

Roger eases him onto his side and presses himself against Deaky's back. John curls an arm in front of him, resting on the soft grass. One of the God's hands finds its way to the hunter's thigh where he gently but firmly pulls him up and over his hips. Deaky trembles and gives a moan that feels like it's been wrenched from the deepest part of his chest as he feels the God's still hard dick slowly slide back into him. 

He's still completely hard and throbbing to the time of his heartbeat, it must be a God thing. John's not going to stop him from the best, most intense pleasure he's ever felt, but he doesn't think he has enough strength left in him to handle that again. He can only hope that the God waits. Deaky's breaths are coming in harsh drags but all Roger does is press a gentle kiss against the back of his neck and rub his hand firmly up the hunter's thigh. 

"Welcome to the end of your time as a virgin," he says with satisfaction obvious in his tone and John manages to make some vague noise of agreement. "Just so you know," he starts, stroking his fingers up over Deaky's upper thigh and hip, "You are an exceptional mortal."

The closest to questioning that statement Deaky can manage is to stir, and Roger presses another kiss at his nape. "Most mortals can't handle my first release into them, it's been centuries since any mortal has weathered my release without blacking out. Most don't have your kind of strength."

It's probably wrong that John is rather proud of this fact. "So am I special?" He asks blearily as he manages to pry his eyes open. The God looks somehow even more beautiful than before. His face remains as ever fair with his pale hair and blue eyes shining in the moonlight but now they are darkened with lust and his expression is sated and pleased although no less predatorial. 

The God chuckles, teeth scraping lightly over the same spot he's been kissing, which makes Deaky' wrung out body shiver and tense for a moment from arousal. "Yes, you are. I look forward to the rest of our night together."

Deaky can't help but to wince a little, clenching to still feel that hot, hard length inside of him. He takes in a deep breath before speaking, "So, is that going to happen every time? I...I don't think I could handle that if I'm being honest," he admits. That one time pretty much sapped all of his strength, if it were to happen again, he doesn't think he could stay conscious. 

The God's fingers rub small comforting circles into the hollow of his pelvis and Deaky feels arousal slowly start to unfurl inside of him again. "Yes and no. Each time will be less intense than the previous as your body acclimates to the transfers." He makes a growl like rumble of appreciation deep in his throat and the vibrations travel straight through Deaky as a possessive hand wraps over his hip. "If you believe you cannot take another, do tell me. I can make it a point as to no longer release inside of you if that is what you wish." 

It's tempting and very considerate of the God but John gives a small shake of his head. The pleasure was simply far to good to pass it up even if it was overwhelming. The mere thought of going through that again causes a shiver to shutter through him. "No, it's alright."

If the God is telling the truth about it being less intense, and there's no reason he wouldn't be, then Deaky can probably take another one. The blond's teeth scrape over him again and start over the knobs of his spine. John had no idea that place could even be erogenous as he lets out a soft moan of pleasure, dropping his head as though that would give the God more space to work his magic.

"Are you ready to go again?" He asks casually as he gives a roll of his hips to accentuate his point and Deaky feels his breath stutter in his throat. 

"I can take it," Deaky answers, mostly steadily, as he does his best not to beg for it like he did last time, but damn was that not worth it. 

Roger makes a sound of approval as he angles the hunter forward slightly, pressing him down against the soft carpet of moss, before leaning over him. Deaky gives a heartfelt groan of pleasure as he starts to get fucked again, hips pressing against his ass with every deep thrust, one hand wrapped around his hip and the other holding him in place against the force.

In only a few thrusts he hits something that makes Deaky's back bow, dragging a starling pleasured scream from his throat. The God gives a huff of amusement as he stills inside the mortal, mouth lowering to press against the back of his shoulder. "Your prostate," he says as means of explanation. "The original position I had you in wasn't ideal for stimulating it, but this one is. Enjoy." 

He resumes his thrusts, carefully aiming himself so that he hits John's prostate every time. And every time he does spikes of arousal shoot up and down the hunter's spine. It has only been a short time since his last orgasm and although the man is young, he still needs more time to recover. Which is why he doesn't get hard and yet his pleasure isn't lessened any. 

He breathes against the ground, trembling and giving intermittent moans as he gets fucked. It feels good, it feels amazing if Deaky is being totally honest and he is lost floating in a haze of pleasure.

It feels like it could be hours that Roger fucks the villager in a slow and measured paced that never wavers, so eventually his cock reawakens. John's moans gain in pitch, turning into soft cries as Roger speeds up in answer to the hunter's renewed erection. 

Roger starts to pull Deaky back onto his thrusts, going somehow even deeper than before, and all the mortal can do is take it. It feels amazing, wave and after wave of pleasure crashing upon him and threatening to drag him under.

At one point the God's hand releases his hip and reaches around to wrap around Deaky's dick, to which he can do nothing but let out a small pleading noise as he cushions his head against his arms. Roger strokes in counterpoint to his thrusts, setting up the perfect rhythm between the movement of his hips and his hand.

Deaky's orgasm isn't barreling towards him this time, approaching much more slowly and yet steadily all the same. It's a rising swell instead of a sharp spike, dragging him slowly into an orgasm that seems to drag on and on, pulling long, low moans out from his throat as he spills all over the moss underneath.

Roger keeps going, perfectly in control, and John can't help but to shudder, clenching his eyes as the blissful high of the orgasm fades. The position he's in doesn't create any strain and the moss is soft, so it's not uncomfortable, but the continuing pleasure and repeated pressing of his prostate becomes kind of overwhelming.

"Are you going to keep fucking me?" Deaky finally asks raggedly and Roger just gives out a sound of amusement. 

"I could," he answers as he continues to rain biting kisses around John's exposed back and neck. "I have tremendous self control, I could quite literally fuck you the whole night if I wanted to."

The concept is kind of scary but also amazingly hot, sending washes of lust to pool at his groin even now that he's considerably spent. There's no chance he's getting it up anytime soon. Deaky's just a human before this God. He knows he can't take that much. "I'd rather you didn't," he admits, releasing a quiet yet desperate whimper as an idle hand wanders to fondle one of his nipples. They'd been hard since exposed to the chilled night air and had stayed hard from the continual arousal. It felt good but he was so sensitive right now that it was verging on painful.

"As you wish," Roger murmured into his ear as his teeth grazed the edge of the shell, gently pushing the mortal forward so he was flat on his stomach and the God was hovering over his back. Roger's hand closes over Deaky's hip, firm but infinitely careful, and his measured careful pace finally breaks. 

Deaky lets out a startled cry as he is slammed into starting a rhythm that is hard, fast and utterly, mind shatteringly amazing. Deaky shakes all over, the strokes no longer aimed at his prostate but still occasionally hitting it nevertheless, spiking sharp bursts of pleasure within him. It's intense, overwhelming and Deaky can do nothing but whine with pleasure as he takes it.

Roger slams into him at least a few more dozen times before erratically pumping a few times, sinking his teeth into the mortal's shoulder as he trembles with the force of his orgasm. John gives out a cry that turns into a drawn out groan as the resulting wave of pleasure from the transfer hits him. As promised, it's drastically lessened in intensity, but it's still enough to make his overly sensitive body tremble as all higher brain function is wiped out. The teeth release from his shoulder, leaving behind an aching spot that Roger tenderly kisses as though in some kind of an apology. 

Roger slips out and Deaky lets out a shuddering groan. He can feel the trickle of something, presumably a mixture of cum and lube, slip out of his twitching, still gaping hole and down his thigh. It's a good thing John is too high on pleasure or else he'd be grossed out. From a virgin to twice fucked by a god in a single night and that's only so far. The mortal has lost all track of time and while he could normally calculate it based on the moon's position, he honestly doesn't give a damn right now. 

Roger presses against Deaky's back, and the hunter can feel the God's breaths as soft huff against his skin. Deaky can feel Roger's dick against his leg, but thankful this time it's soft. Does being a God mean he has complete control over its state, or is two orgasm actually enough to force him into recovery? 

"I would love," Roger starts in a low, sexy, satisfied voice, "to finish fucking you, four or five times in a row, and then slip something into you to hold in all of my seed inside of you while you rest."

Deaky shudders, heat that is only slightly too soon uncurling in his gut at the descriptive words. 

"To pull it back out of you and sink into your still clenching hole, filling you with another one of my loads, before plugging you back up. The feeling of you, already wet inside from my release, would be like nothing else. I would like that all the time." 

It takes a moment for Deaky to remember how to breathe and then to get the fantasy far enough out of his mind to actually form words. "We haven't hit four yet."

There's a moment of silence before he bursts out laughing, which Deaky can feel shaking him through where their back-to-chest are touching. It's the first time he sounds genuinely amused to the point of laughter rather than just voicing his amusement for the mortal's benefit. 

"Oh, Deaky," he says and Deaky can hear his lips curling into a smile, "You are the first sacrifice to try matching me. And while I appreciate the thought, I am fully aware of your mortal confinements. I do not wish to push you beyond what you can take, so I will make do with simpler fantasies." He pulls away from the hunter's back and lifts Deaky's hips with his grip so the mortal is on his knees with his ass relatively high in the air. John can feel the sharp nip of teeth against the skin of his cheek, "But I will see the results of my work."

Roger's hand releases Deaky's hip and slides inwards, John lets out a little gasp as what feels like both of his thumbs slipping into the loosened hole with relative ease. He pulls them apart, stretching Deaky open, causing the poor young man to let out a jerky moan as he collapses forward, burying his head in his arms. The stretch of the thumbs feels more intense than it must be for it feels like Deaky's stretched wide enough to shove in a hand without trouble, like he's gaping open. 

The God makes a sound of approval, and at that noise John automatically, and uselessly clenches down around the thumbs. That prompts a heated, pleased, sound and he slowly lessens the tension, letting the mortal's hole close bit by but till he slips first one thumb out and then the second. His fingers sooth over the hips beneath him. 

"Come on, let's clean you up," Roger murmurs, gently lifting the man into his arms. He only carries him long enough to move over the pool, stepping down into it. Deaky tenses in anticipation of the cold water, but find to his surprise and infinite pleasure that it's hot instead. It only comes up to their waists as they are of relatively equal height, and John can just dimly make out rock shelves around the edge that could serve as seats. 

Roger carefully sets the young man down, letting Deaky stand on his own, although he is silently appreciative of the grip on his upper arms holding him up. His legs a little shaky and so he's not sure he wouldn't just fall if most of his weight wasn't being taken.

Roger guides him to sit down on one of the underwater shelves, which submerges him under the water to his neck. He rests his back against the rock wall edge, letting out a deep breath. Once Roger sits down next to him, Deaky slides further down to rests his head against the God's shoulder, just allowing himself to relax.

Roger wraps an arm around Deaky's waist, holding the mortal against him, and Deaky loses track of time sitting there. The water is soothing, working into him and threatening to make the hunter fall asleep, and even the slightly strange feeling of water entering him, where his hole is no longer tight enough to hold it out, isn't enough to stop the feeling of deep relaxation from over coming him. 

Roger's free hand strokes over Deaky, over his skin and muscles, and after a few moments of it he realizes the God is doing as promised, cleaning the evidence of their activities off. Roger leans down to press lingering kisses to the skin below Deaky's ear, speaking softly. 

"Turn around," he orders, and after a moment to process the command, Deaky obeys. He slowly forces himself around, following the blond's guiding touches and rising up with his knees on the shelf, cushioning his upper torso on the moss outside the pool, arms crossed below his head. "My good boy," Roger breathes against Deaky's now exposed skin. The night air feel chilly on his wet skin, John can feel the heat of where Roger's body is pressed against his own.

Deaky's ass is just barely out of the water, most of his cock still within the heat, and he gets the suspicion that Roger is going to fuck him again. Not that he's going to complain, he's going to remember the pleasure of tonight for the rest of his life even if he lives to be one hundred. 

And indeed no sooner has Deaky thought it that his body is raked with a shutter as two fingers are slipped into him, quickly followed by a third. It feels good, the rocking motion a gentler version of the intensity of his cock, but after the stretching he'd done earlier, and then two separate times getting fucked, the three fingers don't feel like much of anything. 

The God is big, after all. Whether he feels big to Deaky's virgin body he doesn't actually know -he has yet to have an opportunity to look him over now that his clothes are off- but he's willing to bet it's the latter. If you're a god, and you can look like whatever you want, why settle for small or even average? 

Deaky relaxes on the moss floor, at this point, whatever Roger decides to do it's going to be enjoyable, so there is no use worrying. If he wants to fuck in this position that's great. If he doesn't that's fine too. 

Roger does in fact end up fucking him over the edge of the pool, splashing the warm water out to soak into the moss, and many times after that as well. Deaky loses track of the number of times over the course of the night, and that's alright. There comes a point where his cock simply refuses to get hard, but that doesn't slow Roger down. 

Anyhow the pleasure is still there after all, and Deaky still enjoys it even if he has no more wet ejaculations. The second time in the pool, right before Roger lets Deaky pass out for some amount of time, he washes the lines of blood off of the sacrifice's skin. Eventually, as he rocks lazily into Deaky, the both of them under the warmth of his previously discarded cloak, he gives a soft sigh. 

"It's almost dawn," Roger comments softly. Deaky stirs from where he is pressed back against the God's chest, raising his head with herculean effort to glance up at the sky. It's lighter, the moon is completely gone, and a faint hint of purple and blue are starting to intrude on the star-covered blackness.

Roger gives a single sharp thrust, stilling inside of Deaky, as the mortal gives out a weak, trembling, moan. Deaky's cock gives an interested twitch but nothing further, the God's essence having grown that much less intense for him. "I am terribly loath to have to give you up," he says with something almost close to anger. "Who knows how long it will be before I get another night with someone half as interesting as you?"

"So don't," Deaky mumbles, closing his eyes, fighting against the tide of exhaustion that wants to drag him under. What little bit of sleep he's had has helped tremendously, but Roger remains a God, and hard to keep up with. Considering that Deaky is damn proud of himself for having managed so well despite only being just a mortal. 

"You are no longer a virgin," Roger says with amusement, lips pressing against the outside of Deaky's arm, "and the night is nearly over; I no longer have any claim on you.

Maybe it's because the night was so exhausting and Deaky is simply too tired to understand it but he doesn't get what the problem is. "Change the rules then," he shrugs.

"What?" The God asks, with something close to shock. 

Deaky drags his head from where it was resting on the soft ground and looks over his shoulder at Roger, eyes stilted because he can barely keep them open rather than out of any kind of anger. "You're a god, Roger, don't you make the rules? If you decided that a priest had to dance around town naked every year for your satisfaction, they'd do it." A mildly delirious laugh pulls itself out of Deaky's throat at the mental image of the dignified Mercury behaving so, although knowing him, he could probably pull it off. 

There's a long silence, which Deaky honestly barely even notices, his head falling back to the moss. Eventually he startles back to awareness as Roger begins to move inside of him again, in slow unhurried thrusts, and the mortal can do nothing but let out a pleased groan. "Well then, one more time, Deaky, before I send you back to your town."

Deaky can't quite muster a reply, clinging with one hand to the ground and the other at the arm wrapped around his chest. Roger's already been fucking him, in this slow, lazy, way for what Deaky swear has been hours, so it's a much shorter time before he's finished. The God doesn't speed up, just presses deep inside of him and gives out a quiet groan into the back of his neck. The rush is so diluted at this point that all Deaky does is shudder, feeling a momentarily high as pleasure floods him and he clenches down around the length inside. 

Roger pulls out of him, and Deaky is mildly convinced that with as much as the God's fucked him tonight that he's never going to fully close, releasing a small trickle of come to join the mess already on his inner thighs. It's not wonderfully comfortable, but it's kind of a satisfying feeling in a nasty way.

"You are so gorgeous like this," Roger murmurs, the hand wrapped around Deaky's chest pulling back. Deaky trembles at the feeling of fingers tracing the edges of his hole, barely dipping in. "Completely satisfied, exhausted, with my seed dripping from you. It is a shame I can't send you back to your town like this. Relax, Deaky, I'll take care of you."

Deaky is barely conscious of the God moving him, Roger's hands drifting over his body, but after awhile Deaky is gently shaken awake. He blinks his eyes open, and realizes that he's bundled up in his cloak, held in his arms. The young hunter glances around, and to his surprise he sees the end of the forest not far away, and the buildings of the town beyond it. He's coming home. 

Roger chuckles, carefully setting him down, and while his legs shake for a moment they do hold. "It has been a wonderful night, Deaky. Go on home."  
The God keeps saying his name that way, like it's a gift and it makes Deaky feel as though he is special. He shifts his weight from foot to foot once released, carefully balancing his weight as he pulls the cloak closed around himself, and finds that his thighs are clean again. 

A moment of checking in with himself and his body reveals that for all that he is tired, all other evidence of their night of pleasure is gone. The sting on his shoulder from where he was bitten, the ache of his thighs from the two separate times he rode the God are both gone, and he is no longer covered in sweat and various combinations of their seed. God powers certainly are useful.

Deaky dips his head in a nod, looking up to meet his gaze. "Fun night," he agrees, "but I don't think I could do it again." Roger's lips quirk into a smirk, but something like sadness dwells deep in his impossibly blue eyes. "Too much in too little time," Deaky explains himself, fighting the urge to collapse to the ground and pass out right there and then on the forest floor. "I've only got so much energy." 

Roger chuckles leaning down and wrapping a hand around the back of Deaky's skull, bringing his head up to kiss him. Deaky's so ridiculously saturated with his power at this point that it's only a small thrill, but it still makes his knees weak for a moment. Of course, that could be the exhaustion speaking, certainty nothing else.

"Still better than any mortal I've ever had before you," he speaks quietly but intensely against Deaky's lips, as he pulls back. "Go, Deaky, before I am tempted to drag you back to my glade and start again." 

Now that's a threat. Any more and he'll be unconscious, he's damn sure of that. Deaky nods, giving Roger a tiny smile and heading for his town. It's only maybe fifteen feet out from the forest's edge, but it feels much longer. The first rays of orange sunlight are starting to come over the tops of the trees as he steps out, and Mercury comes nearly running out between the buildings. 

"Deacon!" Mercury almost collides with the young man, skidding to a stop and looking him over with wide eyes. "Are you alright?" He demands, and Deaky glances back into the forest, looking for a trace of Roger. The God is gone, or at least out of his sight. 

"Just really tired," he answers honestly, pulling the black cloak a little tighter around himself. "Sleeping for at least a week sounds fantastic." 

The priest visibly relaxes, offering a wide grin. "Of course. Come on, darling, lets get you back to your bed."


End file.
